


Disrespectful To The Dead

by Metalbendersofficial



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Also some of this is tea on my gf but again break out your blacklights, F/M, Some of this is tea on me but y'all can da vinci code that yourself, muuuuuuurder, we love a good heatlthy relationship tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 21:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metalbendersofficial/pseuds/Metalbendersofficial
Summary: We've all been here.





	Disrespectful To The Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Bonjour, y'all.  
> I wasn't dead, promise.

Amelie feels cold, alone once more with her thoughts.

She’s not quite sure what she  _ is  _  thinking, but she knows that it’s not her. 

 

It’s a voice in her head;  _ ‘You have to get rid of him. One way or another.’ _

It’s not her voice, nor anyone she knows. 

Her movements are almost robotic, she feels like a ghost floating through the small living quarters.

 

The kitchen is neat. 

Clean, only an open bottle of scotch and three glasses sit on the table.

The knife block seems too far away; it seems like as she reaches for it, it moves farther and farther from her.

The handle of the knife seems familiar, like an old lovers touch.

 

Gerard lays asleep on their couch, a book laying open on his stomach. 

Amelie recognizes the paperback.  _ The Gargoyle _ . 

She gave him the book when they were just teenagers, no more than 15 or 16 years old. The book still had the corners of pages folded, pink sticky notes where Gerard marked her favorite passages. 

There’s a piece inside of her that snaps. 

_ ‘Don’t do it. You love him. Don’t do this, it isn’t right.’  _

 

She knows this, but the unknown drive within her pushes the woman forward. 

Amelie smells the scotch on his breath, perhaps it’s her own. The scent is strong and reminds her of the early evening they had with the new doctor, the celebration of good news.

 

A smile tugs at her lips seeing her husband still well dressed, her lipstick still marking his jaw and neck.

She hovers over him, positioning herself in his lap.

It’s familiar to her, intimate.

Perhaps it’s what that small part of her needs to be at peace with this.

 

Amelie grabs his chin and kisses him, barely waking the man. He kisses her back, gently. He tastes like scotch and sleep.

The woman parts his lips with her tongue, catching him off guard.

This is exactly what she wants.

 

She presses the blade against his throat, pulling it across in one deft motion. 

Amelie can feel him smiling against her kiss, can taste the blood filling his mouth. 

She pulls away, disgusted and disturbed to see him staring up at her, no fight left in him.

 

His voice is weak, speech bubbling with blood. 

She’s not sure what he says. 

Finally removing herself from the couch, she admires her handiwork. It’s brutal, but efficient. 

 

She leaves the knife in his stomach. A sick reminder for herself.

 

The small part of her that told her not to do this is screaming for her to go get help.

Surely Angela or Lucio could do something to help her husband. 

 

She doesn’t rush to the med bay, instead she takes a few minutes to brush her teeth and clean the blood off of her. 

The taste of iron and scotch still linger in her mouth as she runs to 

Angelas' office.

 

“Angela?” Amelie calls into the office, “Angela!”

She finds the woman preoccupied with the new doctor, showing her some of her private research.

Good, maybe Moira would help her husband as well. 

 

_ ‘Help?’  _ That sick part of her thinks,  _ ‘He’s dead, Amelie.’ _

 

Concern is written on their faces as they approach Amelie, eager to help however they can. 

The brunette takes Angela by the hand and  leads them both to her quarters quarters. 

Her explanation is simple; “It’s Gerard.” 

 

They enter the small room, the two doctors airing on the side of caution.

Moira sees the man first and only comments; “Oh good  _ Christ _ .”

Angela moves calmly towards him, crouching beside the couch to get a better idea, if any, about what has happened here. 

 

Amelie is calm, leaning against the wall. 

There is the feeling of static on her shoulder, almost as if something is touching her.

She can feel the static behind her.

Close, but not too close. 

 

_ “That’s disrespectful to the dead, my love.”  _

Gerards’ voice is playful and light. She can tell he’s smiling. 

Amelie laughs at her husbands joke, telling him; “It’s only disrespectful if it’s chopsticks, mon ours.” She thinks for a moment, adding, “And last time I checked, you weren’t rice!” 

 

The doctors stare at her, concerned about the woman talking to herself. 

Moira moves closer to the woman, gently wiping Amelie's tears away with her thumb. 

 

“Amelie?” 

Her husband's voice is calm, but carries a bit of urgency. His voice doesn’t come from the static behind her.

 

Angela’s voice isn’t quite Angela’s voice as it tells her; “Wake up.”

 

-

 

“My love?” Gerard sits on the edge of the bed, gently shaking his wife, trying to wake her.

He hates seeing the love of his wife cry. Even if it’s just from a dream.

He tries wiping her tears away, moving the hair from her eyes.

 

Finally, she wakes.

There’s panic in her eyes, then relief. 

 

“Gerard..” The tears well in her eyes as she hugs him, nearly knocking him from the bed.

He holds her, rubbing her back while she cries into his shoulder. 

It breaks his heart to see her like this.

 

“Would you like to talk about it?” his voice is gentle, as he doesn’t want to pry.

She shakes her head ‘no’ against his shoulder. He leans them back to grab a stuffed animal for his wife. 

A little Eevee toy that Hana had bought upon hearing she was Amelie’s favorite pokemon.

 

He clears his throat as he sits up, putting on a fake higher voice for the toy; “Mom? Are you okay?” 

Gerard feels her smile against his neck. His voice is back to its normal pitch, telling her to hold Eevee.

 

He wraps his wife's legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and picks her up. 

“How about you sit on the counter while I make breakfast, my love?” He gets no response.

“I’ll make us pancakes.”

 

“I want special shapes.” She finally mumbles

 

He laughs. “Anything for you.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, my computer died so I'm sorry I'm not posting more often.  
> If you comment on this you own 1% of my soul.


End file.
